Anne Douglas (28 page)

She took his hand, leading him back towards the staircase.

‘And if you could just see their faces when they come in, after their day away, I know you’d understand what I’m saying.’

‘I do understand, Lynette. I’m glad, honestly, that other folk can share what I had.’

‘Ah, Ronan, that’s nice to hear. Maybe I’ve been maligning you.’

‘Not lately,’ he said teasingly, and together they ran down the stairs for tea.

Seeing Ishbel moving easily round their kitchen gave Lynette a rather strange feeling. It was as though she’d already moved in, which was absurd. But she did seem to know where everything was, and it was her coffee cake she was slicing, and her soda scones, she was buttering, and all the time, she was smiling her friendly smile and Frank was watching her as though she was something special.

Still, tea went off very well, with Ronan charming everyone by being perfectly at ease and praising all that he’d seen, the warden’s flat included. If only Monnie were here too, Lynette thought, and suddenly there she was, back in time to help with the return of the hostellers she said, but ready for some of that coffee cake first.

‘Had a good day?’ Lynette asked, when they went together to make fresh tea.

‘Oh, yes, it was fine.’ Monnie seemed relaxed. ‘We just went for a walk, you know.’

‘And Torquil was OK?’

‘Yes, I said, everything was fine.’

‘That’s good. And we’ve had a lovely afternoon here. Ronan wasn’t too upset at all, about seeing the house. In fact, he feels much better about it all round.’

‘Trust you to be right!’

‘He’s got to go back soon, though. Might just have time to see our happy hostellers coming home. I hope they look as cheerful as I said they would.’

‘They will, they always do. But better get Ronan away before they start their cooking, eh?’

At his car, ready to leave, having seen the ‘happy hostellers’ arrive back and marvelled at their appearance of health and strength, Ronan’s eyes were on Lynette as she stood to see him away.

‘Thank you again,’ he said quietly. ‘For everything.’

‘I wanted to see if I could help, that’s all.’

‘You did help. And there’s something else.’

She waited, as he hesitated, trying to find the words he wanted.

‘Seeing the house again, thinking of how I learned to love the Highlands – it’s made me glad I’ve come back.’

‘You don’t mean, just to the house?’

‘No, to work. To live here, in this part of the world again.’ He shook his head. ‘I know I could never live anywhere else, Lynette. Could you? Now that you’ve discovered it?’

She put her hands to her arms, as though she were cold, and said quickly, ‘Oh, it’s beautiful, I agree. Really . . . beautiful.’

He nodded, watching her face.

‘Suppose I should go. Mrs A will be looking out for me. Oh, God, you will be in tomorrow, Lynette?’

‘You know I will.’

Looking round, to see if anyone in the village street was watching, they hastily kissed, pressed hands, and parted, Ronan to his driver’s seat, Lynette to stand back, ready to wave. In a moment, he was gone and she was left to walk slowly up the drive to the house.

It had been a good day, she was pleased it had gone well. If only there weren’t that cold feeling around her heart that she would not even try to identify.

‘Lynette,’ Monnie called, catching her as she went into the flat. ‘You didn’t tell me Ishbel was coming here today.’

‘I didn’t know. Dad invited her.’

‘Hmm. Well, she’s gone home now, but she does seem to be here a lot, eh?’

‘Or, he’s at the shop.’

They looked at each other.

‘Suppose we’ll find out sooner or later what’s going on,’ said Monnie.

‘Come on, we already know,’ Lynette retorted.

But of course they couldn’t be sure.

Forty-Seven

Early in July, Frank sprang a surprise on the girls. Not the one they’d been expecting, which wouldn’t have been a surprise, anyway, but news of a weekend trip he intended to take back to Edinburgh.

‘Edinburgh?’ Monnie echoed. ‘To see the flat?’

‘To see the flat. Yes, it’s about time I did a check. I’ll only be away two nights, Friday and Saturday. You can cope, Monnie?’

‘Of course. It’d be fun, to be in charge.’

‘A weekend in Edinburgh,’ Lynette was saying thoughtfully. ‘Dad, how about I come with you? Fionola’s taking Saturday off this weekend, I could go the one following. What do you think?’

‘Why, it’s a great idea, Lynette. I’d be glad to have you.’

The news that Lynette was to be away for a weekend was not well received by Ronan.

‘You’re going to Edinburgh?’ he asked blankly. ‘Why not have checked with me first?’

‘Why, it’s all right if I go, isn’t it?’ Lynette asked, frowning. ‘I’m entitled to one weekend off every five weeks on our rota.’

‘Oh, I’m not saying you can’t go, but we might have gone together. Now this date you’ve booked is when I have some people from Inverness coming over to do a recce for a conference. I can’t get away.’

‘I’ll only be looking round our old flat with Dad, Ronan. It’d be much better if we went together some other time, eh?’

‘If you say so,’ he sighed, his brow still dark.

Scott’s face, on the other hand, when he heard of Lynette’s plans, was sunny.

‘Tell me the dates again,’ he said, when she was taking her coffee in his kitchen. ‘Mid July, eh? Well, that’s a coincidence, if you like.’

‘What is?’

‘Why, I’m going to Edinburgh that same weekend! Can you believe it?’

‘No,’ said Lynette, with a laugh, in which Scott’s assistants joined. ‘I don’t believe in that sort of coincidence.’

‘But it’s true! I’ve got an appointment on Saturday morning in George Street, honest.’ Scott turned to Hamish. ‘You tell her, Hamish. I’m leaving you in charge, right?’

‘Right,’ groaned Hamish. ‘And I’m shaking in my shoes already.’

‘Come off it, you’re a good chef, you’ll be fine. Lynette, you believe me now, eh?’

‘I’ll have to.’ She drank her coffee, smiling. ‘So, are you going to travel with Dad and me on Friday? We’re just going to check our old flat.’

‘I’d like to,’ Scott said earnestly. ‘But is You Know Who no’ going with you?’

‘He means Mr Allan,’ Brigid put in helpfully.

‘I know who he means,’ Lynette retorted. ‘No, Mr Allan is not going with me, but if you want to travel with us, that’d be grand.’

‘It’s a date,’ he said, beaming. ‘Tell your dad I’ll drive us all to Inverness, now that I’ve got my old banger. We can do the trip in one day, if we take the train from there, and it won’t hurt to leave the car at the station.’

To be back in Edinburgh, it seemed so strange. As though, Lynette thought, she’d been away for years, and to somewhere foreign, too. Was her father feeling the same? Was Scott?

Scott said he’d been back a couple of times to see his mother, he’d sort of got used to the feeling of coming home when he first set foot on the platform at Waverley Station. But yes, there was at the back of his mind, the idea that he’d left behind a strange land. A beautiful land, of course.

‘Oh, yes, beautiful.’ Lynette, in the taxi they were sharing, agreed and remembered with a little stab her use of the same word to Ronan. ‘But strange. Well, different. How d’you feel, Dad?’

‘How do I feel?’ Frank’s face, in the dusky light of the taxi, was hard to read. ‘Well, I’m glad to be back. I realize I’ve missed Auld Reekie more than I thought. But I won’t mind when I have to leave again, put it that way.’

No more was said until they dropped Scott off at his mother’s flat, when they arranged to have a meal together the following evening, though he and Lynette also agreed to meet earlier, for a sentimental walk in the city.

‘Not going to tell us about your appointment on Saturday morning?’ Lynette asked cheekily. ‘Don’t mind me, I’m just being nosey.’

‘Maybe one day,’ he answered seriously. ‘At the moment, it’s a secret. Hey, here’s Ma looking out – quick, say hello!’

After a brief handshake with Scott’s mother, a friendly, youthful-looking redhead, it was back to the taxi for Lynette and her father, with butterflies for her, she said, all the way to their tenement.

‘This certainly seems to mean a lot to you,’ Frank remarked when they’d paid off the taxi and were standing at the foot of the well-known stair. ‘I never realized how attached you were to the place.’

‘I’m not sure I even knew myself.’ She stood looking up the stair towards the first landing. ‘But I know I was glad we kept the flat on.’

‘Let’s go up, then. I’ll just open the door and run up to speak to Mrs Logan.’

‘No,’ Lynette said quickly. ‘Let’s go in first, and then speak to Mrs Logan.’

‘OK, just as you like.’ Frank laughed a little edgily. ‘Hope the key still fits, eh?’

It fitted, and slowly they stepped over the threshold of their old home.

Now I feel like Ronan, coming back, thought Lynette, looking around at all that she remembered. Except that her home hadn’t changed. Hadn’t changed at all. Everything was still there, so neat, so clean – Mrs Logan had done a good job. The table where they’d had so many meals, the range, the cooker, the sofa and chairs, the pictures, the television, the book shelves, Ma’s handworked rug, some of her cushions they’d left behind . . .

‘Oh, Dad,’ Lynette said softly, as memories of her mother came rushing like a torrent over her. ‘Oh, Dad!’

And as he put his arms around her and held her, she melted into tears.

Of course, she quickly recovered herself. Had to, really, as Mrs Logan was soon knocking at the door and hurrying in to greet them.

‘Now is it no’ grand to see you folks again!’ she cried, shaking Frank’s hand, hugging Lynette. ‘I thought I heard a taxi and we don’t get many, so I guessed it would be you. But don’t you both look well, eh? And I bet Monnie’s the same. Highland air is suiting you, all right!’

‘Everything’s looking so nice here, Mrs Logan,’ Frank told her. ‘We’re really impressed, aren’t we, Lynette? And I’ve got your envelope here, now—’

‘Och, now I don’t want paying, Mr Forester! What are neighbours for?’

‘Come on, this is an ongoing job.’ Frank put his envelope into her hand, at which she shook her head and said he shouldn’t, she felt so bad, then rattled on.

‘Now, I ken it’s summer, but this flat has got very chill, so I’ve lit the range and put some hot water bottles in your beds. You’ll no’ be wanting to catch your deaths, eh? And when you’re ready, come away up the stair and have a nice bit of meat pie with Bob and me. Don’t be long now!’

‘Oh, dear, I feel like crying again,’ sniffed Lynette, as Mrs Logan bustled away. ‘What can we say?’

‘Aye, they were good neighbours here,’ Frank murmured, walking slowly round the flat, picking up books and putting them down, switching on the radio and turning it off. ‘Seems odd, we’re not here any more.’

‘You had to move on, Dad.’

‘True, and I’m glad I did. And you are, too, eh?’

‘Oh, yes.’

He gave her a long keen look, then picked up his overnight case and said he’d have a wash before going up to Mrs Logan’s.

‘That’s a nice laddie, yon Scott, Lynette. Wonder what he’s up to, back in Edinburgh?’

‘Whatever it is, he’s not saying,’ answered Lynette, who was still wondering that herself.

At night, in her old bed with its warm sheets, she thought of Ronan, so very far away, but like the Highlands that were so clear cut when she was there and now seemed indistinct, his image was cloudy in her mind. As soon as she returned, it would be this place that lost its clarity, and Ronan would be his true handsome self. She was just all at sea at the moment, had become disorientated, which was not like her. How lucky it was she’d soon be back in Conair.

Which reminded her – how was Monnie coping?

Thinking of her sister, Lynette fell asleep.

Forty-Eight

Monnie, acting as senior warden for the first time at Conair House, was pleased with the way she was managing. She hadn’t felt nervous at all. In fact, having to rely on herself, had given her confidence. Of course, she had to admit, laughing a little on Saturday afternoon, she’d only been on her own for two days. Well, to be honest, one and a half so far, but for one of those – Friday – she’d had to accept advice from Mrs Duthie, which had not made things easy.

Lord, how tactful one had to be! How did her father cope, then? Monnie herself was soon tired of Mrs Duthie telling her what to say to those laddies who left wet towels on the bathroom floor, and shouting ‘door’, when Monnie could hear the bell perfectly well and had already come running. Then there was the perpetual problem of the hostellers’ kitchen and the way they left the stove . . .

‘Now if I was you, Monnie,’ Mrs Duthie announced, ‘I would start fining ’em. Yes, I would. Anybody leaves grease on the stove, or in the frying pan – did you see it this morning? – they pay a shilling into a fines box. And in no time, you’d have money to do all sorts of things, you mark my words!’

‘I really don’t think the young folk would be willing to pay a shilling for not cleaning the frying pan.’

‘Teach ’em a lesson. You tell your dad what I said, my dear. I’m surprised he’s not thought of it himself.’

Monnie, rolling her eyes, hurried off to her father’s office, where she settled down to some typing and accounts work he’d left her, and after Mrs Duthie had completed her usual whirlwind of cleaning and departed, everything was beautifully peaceful and orderly. Until, of course, the hostellers came back and then it was action stations again and time went flying by.

No Torquil, though. Although it was Friday, he had not brought her any fish. Strange. Perhaps he’d thought she didn’t want any because she was on her own? Still, he might have looked in, anyway.